


The Capricious Community

by remuszaneredvines



Category: Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Doesn’t follow Netflix canon, Family, Gen, M/M, Night Valians aren't fond of outsiders, Post-Episode: e030 Dana, Post-The Miserable Mill, Pre-Live Show: Condos, but they'll come around, let Violet Baudelaire rest 2k17, these kids have been through a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9300122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuszaneredvines/pseuds/remuszaneredvines
Summary: After narrowly escaping from the clutches of the wicked Count Olaf for the fourth time, the Baudelaire orphans are sent to live with their distant relative, Cecil Palmer. When they arrive, the siblings realize that their new home holds many secrets, and is more capricious - a word which here means "unpredictable" - than any place they've been before...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to be familiar with both WTNV and ASOUE to read this, but it helps if you know a bit about both. WTNV is the story of Night Vale, a desert town where angels befriend old women, dragons run for mayor, hooded figures lurk around vacant lots, and the Sheriff's Secret Police watch your every move. ASOUE is the story of the three Baudelaire orphans, who are pleasant children that lose their parents in a fire and are then caught up in many unpleasant situations, usually caused by Count Olaf, the man who is after their fortune.  
> WTNV and ASOUE have very different storytelling styles: WTNV through Cecil's radio show and ASOUE through the narration of Lemony Snicket, the man who is documenting the Baudelaires' lives. I love both styles, but chose not to write in either for fear of alienating readers that aren't familiar with one or the other.  
> Enjoy!

Violet Baudelaire wasn't quite sure what to expect of the town she and her siblings were going to be staying in. She knew that it was in the desert Southwest, and that it was farther away from their hometown on the East Coast than she'd ever been. She couldn't quite remember what state the new town was in. Now that she thought about it, Violet couldn't remember how she and her siblings had arrived in the building they were now sitting in. They had been in Mr. Poe's car, listening dully as the executor of their parents’ estate droned on about new programs at the bank, and...then what?

She looked around the room. It seemed to be a welcome center of some sort, with a counter along one wall, a bored employee with a magazine sitting behind it, and several posters on the walls, inviting those looking at them to “Visit Radon Canyon!” and “Check Out the Old Town Drawbridge - Coming Soon!”

Violet stared at the last one for a moment. A drawbridge in the desert? She'd heard of aquifers underground in desert areas, so maybe there was one exposed above ground, and the citizens needed a bridge over it. But why would they need a drawbridge? Were there boats? Was the town near a river? She'd have to ask someone about it. Their third cousin Cecil, who would be their new guardian, would probably know.

“Violet?”

The eldest Baudelaire turned to her right to find her brother Klaus sitting beside her, awake and looking confusedly around the room.

“How did we get here? The last thing I remember was riding in Mr. Poe's car, and then I must have fallen asleep, because I don't remember arriving here.”

“Neither do I,” replied Violet, scanning the room for Mr. Poe. There was no sign of him. She leaned forward a bit, and checked the seat to the right of Klaus. There, her younger sister Sunny was stirring, and she soon opened her eyes and crawled into Klaus's lap.

“Dondsta?” Sunny asked, yawning. Sunny, being only about a year old, had a way of speaking that was mostly gibberish, and could only be understood by her siblings.

“Judging by the posters on the walls, I'd guess we've arrived in Night Vale,” Klaus replied. “Mr. Poe didn’t tell us much about it, though. As little help as he is, I wish he were here to introduce us to our new guardian.”

“So do I.” Violet scanned the room again. “I'm going to ask that employee if they saw Mr. Poe leave.”

The chair made a hissing sound as she stood up. She turned to look at it, but it must have been air being sucked into a hole in the cushion.

“Excuse me,” Violet said as she reached the counter, “My siblings and I are going to be staying here in Night Vale, but the man who brought us here seems to be missing. He was wearing a black suit and a hat, and had round glasses. Did you by any chance see him leave?” she asked politely.

The employee snapped their gum, which was the same shade of pink as their hair. “Suit, round glasses? I didn't see him, but he may have just dropped you by the door and left.” Considering Mr. Poe's busy schedule and his dispassionate and often brusque attitude toward the Baudelaire orphans, this seemed a likely scenario to Violet. But why couldn't they at least remember Mr. Poe dropping them off, or for that matter, most of the ride to Night Vale?

The employee's voice snapped Violet out of her thoughts. “Cecil will be by soon to pick you guys up – he told me you'd be coming.” They reached below the counter and withdrew three pamphlets and three orange packets. “Since you're new to town, I have to give you these.”

Violet was handed the pamphlets and packets. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, it's mandatory. You can look over those until Cecil gets here. Should be any minute now.”

Violet looked at one of the pamphlets. The cover was a deep purple, with the words Welcome to Night Vale written across the front. There were also various pictures of eyes that looked as though someone had gotten a little out of control with clipart; the effect was more comical than that of the images of eyes that had followed them since their parents had died, but the symbol still made Violet shudder. It reminded her of the office of the hypnotist they'd barely escaped only a few days before, of the framed pictures in the tower where she'd been locked while trying to save her sister, and more than anything, of the tattoo on Count Olaf's ankle.

Violet looked away from the pamphlet uneasily and cleared her throat. The employee was still popping their gum. “Uh, excuse me, but do you know anything about Cecil?”

“Oh, yeah,” they replied. “Cecil's the community radio host, always poking around town, you know, for news stories and stuff. A little weird, but he's really nice. He and the town scientist are dating, actually.”

Violet perked up. “Town scientist?” As a budding scientist and inventor herself, the idea of someone she could learn from and possibly assist was definitely something she was interested in.

“Yeah, his name is Carlos. He's got a lab above Big Rico's Pizza.”

"Right." Violet was intrigued. Hopefully she'd get to meet Carlos soon and find out some more about him.

Violet thanked the employee, who gave her a two-fingered salute and turned back to their magazine. Klaus and Sunny were staring expectantly at Violet, but she just shrugged before distributing the pamphlets, which each Baudelaire began to inspect. On the inside page, the words Welcome to Night Vale were written again, and underneath was the message:

“Whether visiting, accidentally annexed, or corporeally absorbed, you are now in Night Vale! Enjoy your time* here, and get involved!” The asterisk continued at the bottom of the page: “*If you believe in and/or experience time. We don’t mean to assume.”

Violet and Klaus looked at each other. Was this some sort of joke? Maybe it was just a small town's way of having fun and playing a trick on newcomers, Violet thought uneasily.

The two Baudelaires that could read looked over the pamphlet, but they were getting about as much out of the packet as Sunny was. Some of the pages were written in Russian or, as Klaus had to discern for his sisters, some variation of Ancient Akkadian or Sumerian. The words that were written in English were just as foreign to the children, informing them of upcoming Sorrow Songs Sing-Alongs, and Barista Cultural Fairs. Violet hoped that once Cecil arrived, he'd be able to shed some light on Night Vale.

The bells above the door jingled as someone walked in. All three Baudelaires looked up and blinked at the person before them. It was a dark-skinned man with a long black braid hanging down his back, wearing a cat t-shirt under a red suit jacket. Altogether, it looked as though the man had run out of time to change out of his casual wear and dress up, so he'd just thrown on a blazer and hoped it looked dressy enough for the occasion. Which, incidentally, was exactly what he had done.

"Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire?" The deep voice was somewhat unexpected from a man in the aforementioned getup.

They all nodded. "Cecil Palmer?" Violet asked, though she was quite sure that this was the cousin they'd come to stay with.

"That's me! Sorry it took me so long to come pick you up, something came up at the station. Oh, hello, Jamie!" he said, waving at the employee behind the counter. "Jamie's interviewed me a few times for the Night Vale High newspaper. But I'm getting off track. Are you ready to go? I figured we'd head back to my apartment and get some lunch; you must be hungry."

Now that they thought about it, none of the Baudelaires could actually remember when they'd last eaten. "That sounds nice, thank you," Violet said, speaking for her siblings and herself - she knew they were probably as hungry as she was.

"I stocked up at the Ralph's once I found out you three were coming. So I'm guessing you're Violet," he pointed to the eldest child, "You're Klaus," directed towards the middle child, "And this must be Sunny!" All the Baudelaires nodded at him.

"Wonderful! So I already faxed all the papers to Mr. Poe, and it looks like you guys can come get settled in at my place now. And I've performed all the chants for having distantly related minors move into a home, so the place will _probably_ let you in."

Violet and Klaus looked at each other. The people in this town sure had a strange sense of humor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baudelaires encounter a snarling man, meet the town scientist, and receive some strange information about their new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the unexpectedly fantastic response! Here's an extra-long chapter for you guys :)

Moments later, the Baudelaires found themselves standing outside the Night Vale Welcome Center with Cecil. Violet hadn't noticed it before, but she saw now that Cecil leaned on a cane as he walked outside, smiling into the sun. He swept an arm outwards in a grandiose gesture and said in a smooth, rich voice: “Welcome to Night Vale.”

“I'm very excited to have you three in town!” Cecil continued after a moment, his voice taking on a much lighter tone. “I'm sure you'll like it here, Night Vale is a fantastic place,” he assured them before taking off down the sidewalk. Violet took Sunny from Klaus, whose arms were beginning to get tired, and they set off after Cecil who, despite his limp and cane, clipped along at a sprightly pace.

“It's only a few blocks from here to my house. Night Vale's pretty small, and the streets are set up in a simple concentric circle-grid-overlay system, so you don't have to worry about getting lost.” He pointed to a large black building, where a woman was giving some sort of speech to a few people in the yard out front, near a massive pile of dark fabric. “There's the City Hall. And that's Mayor Winchell giving her usual press conference. I've got one of my interns out there covering it, so I can give my report on it later. I don't think I mentioned- I'm the host of the local radio show here. Which is-”

Just then, Cecil's lengthy monologue was cut short by the voice of an older man who had noticed them on the sidewalk. Pointing at the Baudelaires, he growled, “Interlopers...interlopers!”

“It's all right, Jeremy!” Cecil said quickly, then turned to the Baudelaires' shaken, confused faces as he ushered them down the sidewalk. “He doesn't mean it in a mean way. People in Night Vale just aren't very used to outsiders. Everyone will calm down after a few days. The same thing happened to my boyfriend, Carlos. He's an outsider, too – that is, he isn't originally from here – and he got the same treatment as, well, that-” Cecil pointed a thumb behind his back, towards where Jeremy was still standing, “-but people started to like him as soon as they met him! I'm sure the same thing will happen with you three.”

He was trying to be reassuring, but the siblings were still rattled from the encounter, and from the fact that being growled at on the street was something to be expected in this town. Cecil seemed to notice, and slowed down a bit to walk beside them rather than in front of them. “Hey.” He made eye contact with each Baudelaire in turn. “Don't let that upset you. There are some things I'll need to explain to you about Night Vale once we get back to my apartment, but for now, just know that you'll fit in fine here.”

Cecil's face was candid and open, but what reassured Violet, Klaus, and Sunny the most was his soothing, sonorous voice. The encounter with the growling man seemed like an event in the distant past, and they found themselves considerably calmer than before. The four continued walking, and besides a few glares and lingering stares, their walk passed without incident, although there was a lot of sweat involved because of the desert heat. En route, Cecil pointed out a science museum, which piqued Violet's interest, a community college, which caught Klaus's eye, and a park with plenty of solid-looking trees, which made Sunny give a sharp, four-toothed smile.

Despite the reassurance from Cecil and the sight of the science museum, Violet still couldn't help feeling a bit nervous as they made their way to Cecil's apartment. Their cousin seemed nice enough, but so had Uncle Monty, and he had ended up dead at Olaf's hands. Or what if it was an act? What if Cecil was secretly in cahoots with Olaf, and they were walking right into a trap? Violet's stomach twisted nervously, and she glanced at Klaus as they drew closer to their destination. He looked as though he were having the same anxious thoughts as her, and Violet tried to shoot him a reassuring glance.

About ten minutes after their encounter with the growling man, the group reached an apartment building several stories tall. Thankfully, Cecil's apartment was on the first floor. Cecil unlocked the door, but then stopped before opening it.

“You guys don't mind dogs, do you?”

Sunny couldn't remember ever having a dog, but Klaus and Violet could recall the stray mutt they'd dragged home, into the bath, and into Klaus's bedroom before their parents were any the wiser. By that point, their parents had no choice but to let Violet and Klaus keep him. He had been middle-aged when they found him, but the kids had loved him regardless until his death a year or so before. They hadn’t thought about Ogden in a while, given that their minds were usually preoccupied with Count Olaf and whatever ordeal they were currently facing, so hearing that they would be living with pets once again put grins on the faces of the two eldest Baudelaires.

“We don't mind them at all,” Klaus replied.

Cecil smiled. “All right, prepare yourselves, then!” He opened the door and stepped in. The Baudelaires delighted in the rush of cool air that came out, before turning their attention to the three dogs that came running to the door – a medium-sized brown one, a larger yellow one, and a tan Great Dane that dwarfed the other two by comparison.

“Hey, guys!” Cecil leaned his cane against the wall and used his newly freed hand to scratch heads and chins and backs. “They might look intimidating, especially this one –“ he nodded toward the Great Dane “- but they're all really sweet.” The dogs seemed to notice the Baudelaires then, and they made their way over – the yellow one, then the brown one, and finally the Great Dane. Smiles grew on all three of their faces – the children, that is – as Violet guided Sunny's hand to the head of the Great Dane, and Klaus knelt down to scratch the bellies of the two smaller dogs.

Cecil allowed a few moments for the Baudelaires to get acquainted with the dogs before saying, “Okay, sorry guys, but the puppies have to go outside for a bit. They've been inside all day and they probably have to use the bathroom.”

He led the siblings down the hall and into the kitchen. The Baudelaires looked around the room as Cecil opened a screen door to let the dogs into a small yard, fenced off from the neighbors on either side. The kitchen itself was pretty neat, though the table was piled high with papers, packets, and some electronic equipment. Violet scoped out the equipment as Klaus squinted at the papers and Sunny gazed longingly at the sturdy-looking legs of the wooden kitchen table.

Cecil followed their gazes and grimaced. “Sorry about that mess. A lot of it's Carlos's, but some is mine too. I'll try and get it cleared off soon.”

“Oh, no!” Violet assured him, “It's fine! I love to invent things, so I was just thinking of different ways to use that electronic equipment.”

“And I love to read, so I was just wondering what was on all those papers,” Klaus explained.

“Chow!” Sunny shrieked. Sunny, being an infant, spoke in a way that was often difficult for anyone besides her siblings to understand, but she meant: “And I love to bite things, so I was just imagining how nice it would be to gnaw on that table.”

“Oh. Well in that case, Violet: I'm sure Carlos would be happy to explain what that equipment's for, because I really have no idea. And Klaus, a lot of it's just things I'm preparing for my show: editorials, reminders, stuff like that. You like to read?” Cecil's eyebrows rose. “What a dangerous hobby! I don't actually have that many books in my apartment,” here his voice rose to a near-shout, “AND THE ONES I DO HAVE ARE APPROVED, OF COURSE, but,” and here he lowered his voice, “my friend Old Woman Josie has plenty. I'm sure she'd let you borrow some.” As if nothing had happened, Cecil continued, “And Sunny, I'm not sure exactly what you meant by “Chow!” but I'm assuming you meant something about the kitchen. They didn't offer classes on Baby Talk when I was at Night Vale High,” he said with a completely straight face.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny looked at each other, unsure if Cecil's comment was meant to be a joke or not. In any case, he continued without waiting for a laugh.

“I'll show you the rest of the place. Here, come this way!” He led them back down the short hallway that ended at the front door. The hallway contained three doors, and Cecil pushed open the one closest to the front door. The Baudelaires peered in to see a rather small room, with a good-sized bed and dresser, and plenty of interestingly shaped footwear strewn across the floor.

“This is my room. So if you need anything during the night, you know where to find me! I'll admit I'm a pretty heavy sleeper, so feel free to yell at me if you need to.”

He pulled the door shut, and opened the middle door. “And here's the bathroom. There's only one, but I think we can manage.” As with the bedroom, it looked as though Cecil had done the best he could with a small amount of space – the bathtub doubled as a shower and there wasn't much room between the sink and the toilet. Nevertheless, it was clean and looked like a fine place to do your business, if you didn't mind bunching up your knees a bit.

Cecil reached for the doorknob of the third room next, looking a bit nervous. “It's not too fancy, but I hope you guys like it. Here's your room.” He pushed the door open to reveal a bedroom about the same size as his own, with a wooden crib, a set of bunk beds, and a large dresser. Though cramped, it was more welcoming than the sterile, impersonal bedroom their anxious Aunt Josephine had prepared for them, much more appealing than the dormitories at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, where the Baudelaires had lived last, and infinitely more inviting than the dirty old room they had slept in while staying with the wicked Count Olaf.

It would be nice, Violet thought, to share a room. The siblings had had separate rooms when they lived with their well-meaning Uncle Monty, and though she knew their uncle was just trying to make them comfortable, Violet had still tossed and turned nearly every night, worrying that her siblings were being kidnapped from the next room over. This way, she would be able to keep a close eye on them. She would never let Sunny be snatched away again, or let Klaus escape into Olaf's clutches when he wasn't in his right mind.

“This looks great. We don't need anything fancy,” Violet assured him.

“Those bunk beds were mine and my sister's when we were around your and Klaus's age.” Cecil smiled before continuing more seriously: “Sorry you have to share a room – I suppose I could make up a bed on the couch for one of you, if you'd like?”

Violet and Klaus looked at each other for a moment, then Violet replied, “That’s fine, we don’t mind sharing.” She could tell Klaus would also rather stay close to his sisters.

“All right, whatever you're most comfortable with!” Cecil said. “One room left – the living room.” He led the way back into the kitchen, where there was an open doorway into a room with a couch, an armchair, a television, and an end table with several magazines piled on top. “That's it!”

Just then, Klaus's stomach gave a loud growl. Before Klaus had time to mutter an apology or any other kind of embarrassed thing one did in such a situation, Cecil exclaimed, “Oh! I guess you guys are probably ready to eat some lunch.” He headed back into the kitchen and the Baudelaires, as they had all afternoon, followed him. “You can sit down there-” he gestured toward the kitchen table “-while I make some sandwiches. Sunny's too old for baby food – is there anything in particular she likes?”

“She really likes hard things – carrots, apples, things like that,” Violet explained.

“I’ll see what I’ve got,” Cecil replied. “Are any of you guys allergic to anything?”

Klaus and Violet glanced at each other, then Klaus answered. “We’re all allergic to peppermints.”

“And we try to keep kosher, too,” Violet added. She and Klaus glanced at each other again in the split second that they waited for Cecil’s response. Neither Count Olaf nor the managers at Lucky Smells had cared about their dietary restrictions, and the siblings hoped Cecil would understand.

“So no peppermints, no pork, and no shellfish. Got it!” Cecil said. “My family’s Jewish too, although we never kept kosher. I do have turkey and cheese, if that’s alright with you, Violet and Klaus. And I’ve got baby carrots somewhere in here that Sunny can have.”

“That sounds great, thank you!” Klaus exclaimed over another growl of his stomach. “Do you need any help?” he asked, which is the polite thing to do when someone is making you a meal, even if you have no experience in the culinary arts. 

“It’s no problem. I’ve got it,” Cecil replied, starting in on the sandwiches. “By the way, I’m going to take you guys to meet Old Woman Josie once Carlos gets here - and once you finish your lunch, of course. She’s a great friend of mine. Since Carlos and I both work pretty late, she told me she could come over on nights that neither of us are here and keep an eye on you guys. Not that I don’t think you could take care of yourselves, but it would make me feel better to know you aren’t here alone for a couple of hours a night.” 

The Baudelaires shot relieved looks at each other. They could only imagine how quickly Count Olaf might whisk them away were they to be left alone in an apartment at night. 

Cecil continued, “Hopefully we won’t have to do that for too long - Carlos and I are both trying to switch around our hours so we aren’t working so late, or at least, not at the same time.” He finished up the sandwiches and sat them in front of the two eldest siblings, then placed a few diced-up baby carrots onto a plate for Sunny. “And she just eats these raw?” Cecil asked. “Guess so,” he answered himself a moment later, as Sunny began to happily crunch away at the carrot pieces.

The Baudelaires, as mentioned before, couldn’t actually remember the last time they’d eaten, so Violet and Klaus were glad when Cecil finished making their sandwiches. They were so hungry that they didn’t notice the odd texture of the bread until each sibling was several bites into their lunch. When Klaus asked, Cecil explained that there had been no wheat or wheat by-products in Night Vale for several years, and that the citizens had had to make do with potato and tapioca flour instead. Cecil was in the middle of telling the three siblings exactly how he got his potato bread so moist when they heard the door to the apartment open. 

“Hello!” came a voice from down the hall. Moments later, a man in a lab coat entered the kitchen, carrying a scientific-looking instrument. He laid the device on the table with its brethren, then gave Cecil a quick kiss on the cheek, and said, “Hi, honey,” softly. Then he turned to the siblings sitting around the kitchen table. 

“I’m Carlos. You must be Violet, Klaus, and Sunny! I’m sorry about your parents. Almost everyone, over the course of their life, will lose their parents, but I’m sorry that it happened to you so early in your own lives.” Carlos paused. “And welcome to Night Vale! Though I’m sure Cecil’s already said that,” he finished. 

Condolences can be shown through a card, through a bouquet of flowers or fruit arranged to look like flowers, or simply through words. The three Baudelaire siblings had received no cards, no flower or fruit arrangements, and very few words that expressed condolences since their parents perished. Neither Count Olaf nor Sir were at all sympathetic about their circumstances, and Aunt Josephine had preferred not to speak of the Baudelaire parents’ deaths at all. Only their Uncle Monty had expressed any sorrow about the siblings’ loss, and it had been nearly a month since the Baudelaire orphans had lived in the care and comfort of Monty’s home. Perhaps Carlos would be like Uncle Monty, Violet thought, tentatively happy at the prospect. Losing Monty after thinking that she and her siblings had found a new home with him had been an awful shock, and the loss was crushing to the Baudelaires, who were still reeling from their parents’ deaths and their terrible experience with Count Olaf. Maybe they could have a life here like they had with Uncle Monty - as long as Olaf-

“Thank you - for the condolences and the welcome,” Klaus said, interrupting Violet’s thoughts. 

“Of course,” Carlos said, and there came a silence until Cecil spoke up. 

“Violet said she’s interested in all of your scientific equipment, Carlos. You can show off a couple of your gadgets while they finish up lunch,” Cecil suggested.

Carlos turned to Violet, pleased. “Oh, is that true? Are you a budding scientist?”

“Well, I do love inventing things, and I know a bit about physics.”

“Alokin!” Sunny shrieked, meaning, “My sister is a phenomenal inventor, and deserves to be recognized as such!”

Carlos grinned. “Then maybe you’d like to assist in my lab sometime! Night Vale is a very...strange place, and my assistants and I find that most of our instruments that we brought from the outside world don’t work here, so we have to build our own.”

“Strange how?” Violet asked, just as Klaus asked, “The outside world?”

Carlos shot Cecil an incomprehensible look, then said “Thank you” as Cecil handed him a sandwich of his own. “Night Vale is not like other towns. No town is like any other town, of course - every town is unique - but this town is more unique, more strange than any other place I’ve been. That’s why we’re going to Old Woman Josie’s house. It’ll be easier to explain there.”

Cecil jumped in before the Baudelaires could ask any more questions: “Looks like you guys finished your sandwiches and carrots pretty quick, are you still hungry?” When the siblings shook their heads, he suggested, “If you want, you can go ahead and put your things away in your room. Take a second to relax and breathe. I don’t want this to be overwhelming for you.”

The Baudelaires smiled gratefully, and after thanking Cecil for lunch (“It’s no problem! I’ll make something better for dinner, I promise!”), they entered their new room, questions swirling in their heads, lingering unease and cautious hope battling in their chests.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baudelaire siblings explain The Olaf Situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I’m glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. There haven’t been many answers so far, but there will be quite a few in the next chapter (which will come sooner than this one did). Stay tuned...

Once the three children cleared out of the kitchen, Cecil slumped against the counter, closing his eyes and sighing. 

“You okay, Ceec?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah. I'm just… Nervous? Anxious? I don't know.”

Carlos slipped an arm around Cecil’s waist and pulled his boyfriend closer. “What's on your mind?”

Cecil took a breath. “I just hope I can be a good guardian for them. I don’t have a whole lot of parenting experience, and - I don’t know. I just don’t know if I’ll be any good at this.”

“You watch Janice after school and on the weekends sometimes, and you always do well with that,” Carlos reasoned. “In her words, you’re ‘the coolest uncle ever!’” 

“Yeah, but having three kids living with me is different than having my niece over a few times a week.”

“That’s true. But you do have some experience. And I’ll be here to help, and so will Old Woman Josie,” Carlos reminded him. “And even Abby and Ste - well, maybe not him. But still. You get the idea.”

Cecil’s expression had darkened at the mention of his brother-in-law, but it brightened into a small smile when Carlos’s words sunk in. “Do you think I’ll do alright?” he asked.

Carlos placed his hand on Cecil’s cheek and guided him into a kiss. “I think you’ll do better than alright.”

\---

Violet put the siblings’ few items of clothing in the dresser Cecil had provided, while Klaus changed Sunny into an outfit with shorter sleeves to suit the desert heat. Mrs. Poe had given Klaus a few of her sons’ hand-me-downs (despite the fact that Klaus was older than both Edgar and Albert and any of their old clothes would be on the small side for him), and she had scrounged up some baby clothes from a neighbor for Sunny. Violet herself was left with the dress she had been wearing when they escaped Aunt Josephine’s house, and a sweater that Mrs. Poe had received as a birthday gift and did not particularly care for. Violet also did not particularly care for the sweater, and it was terribly unsuited for the desert climate, but it was better than nothing. 

“I’m glad Mrs. Poe found these clothes for us before we came here,” Violet said, breaking the silence that had settled between the siblings.

“Me, too,” agreed Klaus. “We would have had to wear those awful coveralls from the lumbermill everywhere!”

“Pruri!” Sunny shrieked, and Violet and Klaus knew she was thinking of how itchy the uniforms had been. 

Violet shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that lumbermill ever again. I hope this town turns out to be a better home than Paltryville,” she said. 

“Rodaw!” Sunny said, meaning, “If Count Olaf finally leaves us alone, it will be.”

“Maybe he will. We are on the other side of the country than we were before. Maybe he’ll just give up,” Violet said hopefully. 

Klaus sighed. “I think that if he found us in a tiny lumbermill town in the middle of the Finite Forest, he could find us anywhere.”

Violet looked away from Klaus and scanned the room. For such a small space, Cecil had done a good job making it seem homey and welcoming. Violet couldn’t help but be reminded of Aunt Josephine and Uncle Monty, who had tried to do the same in their own homes, and had ended up dead at Olaf’s hands in a week. 

Klaus’s words echoed in her head. He could find us anywhere... “I really hope not,” Violet answered belatedly. “Do you think Mr. Poe told Cecil about Count Olaf?”

“I’m not sure. If Mr. Poe did tell him, Cecil hasn’t mentioned it yet. We may have to warn him ourselves,” Klaus said. 

Just then, there came a knock on the half-open door. The children startled (talking about Count Olaf had made them jumpy), but it was only Cecil. 

Cecil poked his head through the doorway. “Hello there, are you three ready to go?” The siblings’ worry must have shown on their faces, because Cecil asked, “Oh, is everything alright?”

The Baudelaires exchanged glances, and then Klaus spoke up. “Cecil? We wanted to ask if Mr. Poe had mentioned anything to you about a man named Count Olaf.”

“Yes, I think so. I was a bit preoccupied by the bats in the station break room when he called me about you, but I do remember him mentioning someone called Olaf who had been following you three around.”

“It’s... more than that. When our parents died, they left us a very large fortune. We were sent to live with Count Olaf because he was our closest relative geographically, but all he wanted was to get his hands on our money. He tried to marry Violet so our inheritance would be shared with him, and when that didn’t work, we were sent to live with other relatives, but,” Klaus swallowed, “he murdered them, trying to get his hands on us.”

Cecil was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry about your relatives. If you’re anxious about him following you to Night Vale, though, you can rest assured that the Sheriff’s Secret Police here in Night Vale are very efficient, and they would surely be able to find and capture him were he to come here.”

“The Sheriff’s Secret Police?” Violet asked.

“How can they be secret if you’re aware of their existence?” Klaus asked.

Cecil hummed. “Well, I suppose it’s because they’re secretly listening in on the citizens of the town at any given time. That is the best way to catch criminals and menaces to society, after all.”

Had someone been listening to them this entire time? Klaus couldn’t see how the police acted in secret if the citizens _knew_ they were being listened to, but he didn’t push the issue. The idea of living in what sounded like an Orwellian police state was...worrisome to Klaus, but if it meant he and his siblings could finally catch Olaf, it would be worth it. 

“...Right,” Klaus answered. 

“Well, if you three are ready, I think we’re going to head over to Josie’s in a moment. We can talk to the Secret Police before we head out, if you want.”  
“If you don’t mind,” Violet said.

“Of course not - I want you to feel secure here. Feeling safe is usually impossible, since any number of things can happen at any time that are very unsafe. But you can feel secure in the fact that the police will protect you from this Count Olaf,” Cecil assured the siblings. “You can wait in the kitchen while I ask the policewoman if she wants to come in for a moment.”

Klaus’s brow furrowed. “There’s a policewoman here now?”

“Oh, yes - she’s across the street in a black car with tinted windows right now. I hope she has the air conditioning running - it must be hot in there,” Cecil added. “I’ll be right back,” he said, ducking out of their room. 

The Baudelaires followed him into the kitchen, wondering if the police in this town would be of any more help than those they’d encountered in the last couple months as they tried to escape Olaf. 

“Cecil? What’s going on?” called Carlos, who was washing the lunch dishes. 

“There’s a man who’s been following the Baudelaires around since their parents died, trying to get their inheritance. We’re going to talk to Carmen about it before we head to Josie’s,” Cecil explained. “I’m going to see if she wants to come inside for a glass of water.”

“Oh. Really? Yeah, that would probably be something you’d want to talk to the police about,” Carlos said to the children. “Carmen can be a little off-putting, but the Sheriff’s Secret Police are generally pretty helpful.” 

Violet shifted Sunny on her hip. “Carlos, are there really people watching everyone in this town at all times?” 

“Yes,” he answered, “but I guess it’s just something you get used to after a while. The citizens here seem to think it’s worth it - I mean, it is true that there’s not a serious crime problem in Night Vale, besides some vandalism here and there.” Carlos shrugged. “And the citizens and the police have a pretty good relationship, as long as the citizens are abiding by the law. Cecil told me he and Officer Fernandez give each other birthday presents.

“I have to say, though,” he continued, “scientifically speaking, it can be very, very hard to get to Night Vale. If you’re worried about someone following you here, chances are, they won’t. Find you here, I mean.”  


“What do you mean?” Violet asked. “How is it hard to get here?”

“Our parents’ banker got us here without difficulty,” Klaus added.

Carlos let the water out of the sink and began rinsing. “It’s hard for me and my team to explain. Or maybe, it’s very easy to explain, but I just haven’t found the easy explanation yet. Hmm...well - you don’t remember arriving in Night Vale, right? You don’t remember pulling into the town in a car, passing a welcome sign, parking and getting out of the car, right?”

The siblings exchanged glances. “Right…” Klaus said, unsure of where Carlos was going with any of this. 

“No one does. Anyone who winds up here just… finds themself here. And I know -” Carlos was cut off by the sound of the front door opening and closing. “Well, just know that it’s very, very hard for any normal person to get here.”

The Baudelaires glanced at each other once more. None of them were sure what to do with that information. (This was a state that the Baudelaires would often find themselves in while living in Night Vale.)

“...Here, come on in this way and I’ll get you a drink,” Cecil’s voice came from down the hall. Klaus hadn’t noticed, but Cecil must have slipped outside while they spoke with Carlos.

“Thank you, Cecil,” the officer said as she and Cecil entered the kitchen. 

The Baudelaires watched her warily. The officer had on dark sunglasses even though they were standing inside, and she had on what looked like a black one-piece wetsuit, with a short cape attached to the back. Altogether, it looked like a disguise that only one of Olaf’s henchpeople could have thrown together so haphazardly. 

Was this one of the two white-faced women, without makeup? Violet thought.

Was this the other one of the two white-faced women, without makeup? Klaus wondered.

Was this Count Olaf himself, disguised as a woman who was disguised as a police officer? Sunny conjectured. 

All of this thinking, wondering, and conjecturing took place in roughly five seconds, after which they were pulled out of their thoughts by Cecil saying, “Baudelaires, this is Officer Carmen Fernandez. You can tell her about this Olaf, so she and the rest of the officers can keep an eye out.”

“How do you do?” Violet said, searching for any trace of powder on the officer’s face, and finding none.

“How do you do?” Klaus said, wondering if either of the white-faced women would choose to work without her partner at her side.

“Aholo,” Sunny said, meaning, “How do you do?” as she looked at the officer’s ankles and found them a bit thicker than those of either Olaf or the white-faced women. While living with Olaf, Sunny had spent a lot of time looking at the ankles of the vile man and his henchpeople, dearly wishing to bite down hard on each one. 

“Can’t complain. I’d be fired if I did,” Officer Fernandez replied. “So what’s this guy look like?” she asked, bringing the water glass up to her lips. Klaus noticed that she didn’t actually take a drink, just held the glass against her mouth with her lips tightly closed. 

Violet began, “He has one eyebrow, and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle, but -” 

“A tattoo of an eye on his ankle?” Carlos asked, pausing his dish-drying for a moment.

“Yes - have you seen anyone with one?” Klaus asked. The policewoman turned her head toward Carlos, but it was impossible to tell where she was really looking, with those dark sunglasses. 

“Oh, I was just thinking that the ankle is a strange place-a strange part of the body for a tattoo of an eye. Sorry. Uh - carry on,” Carlos said clearing his throat.

The officer’s head swiveled back toward Violet. “One eyebrow and a tattoo. You know, plenty of people have unibrows and tattoos.”

“Yes, but he’s often accompanied by some of his theater troupe. There’s a bald man with a long nose, and a man with hooks for hands, and...and two women who wear white powder on their faces,” Violet finished. The officer made no sign of recognition or alarm when Violet mentioned the white-faced women or any of the other troupe members, which Violet took as a sign that this was probably not one of Olaf’s henchpeople in disguise. 

“Alright,” the officer said after taking another false sip of water, “man with a unibrow and ankle tattoo, accompanied by a theater troupe.”

“Should you be writing any of this down?” Klaus asked, rather rudely, but when one is trying to ensure their safety from a greedy criminal, rudeness is almost always excusable.

Officer Fernandez seemed unfazed. “My associate is getting it down as we speak,” she said. 

Klaus looked around. There was no one in the kitchen but his siblings, himself, Cecil, Carlos, and the officer. 

“We’ll keep an eye out,” she continued. “But we don’t usually see many Inter-” she cleared her throat- “-many Outsiders in Night Vale. Not that it’s impossible for this Olaf to get here, but. You know.”

The Baudelaires did not, in fact, know, but Violet nodded politely and her siblings followed suit. “Thank you,” the eldest Baudelaire said, sensing that she wouldn’t get much more information out of Officer Fernandez. 

“Of course,” the officer nodded. She lifted the glass to her lips for a long second, as though she were draining the last of the water, but when she handed it back to Cecil, it was just as full as it had been when he first poured it. “Thanks for that, Cecil. Anything else you need?”

When Cecil looked at the Baudelaires, they shook their heads, so he said, “I don’t think so. Thank you for your time, Officer Fernandez!” 

“It’s no problem, Cecil. Let me know when that niece of yours has cookies for sale,” she said, her lips turning up into the slightest hint of a smile. 

“Will do, Carmen. Stay cool out there!” 

The officer straightened her sunglasses. “Oh, we will. Goodbye, Cecil, Carlos, and new citizens,” she said as she exited the kitchen and then the front door.

“Goodbye,” they all said to her retreating back.

Cecil turned to the Baudelaire siblings. “Well, I’m glad we got that done! Does that help you feel better about all of that?”

The Baudelaires were at first inclined to say ‘no’, based on Officer Fernandez’ behavior. But when they thought about it, she had listened to their own descriptions and worries rather than asking to speak to their guardian, which was better than most police officers the Baudelaires had dealt with in the last few months. And Carlos had said that the police in Night Vale were helpful. Maybe they would be able to keep Olaf at bay while living here.

So Violet said, “Yes, I think so.”

“That’s good to hear,” Cecil said. “Now, we’d better be getting on over to Josie’s house. I’d like to introduce you to her before my show tonight. I think she’s going to let the three of you stay for dinner while I do the show - and I’m sure you’d be welcome too, Carlos, if you don't have to run back to the lab tonight. Regardless, she’ll get you three home once I get back here - that way you aren’t left alone tonight. How does that sound?”

“Gway!” Sunny shrieked, grinning with all four teeth. 

“Great! I think Carlos has a few things he wants to tell you once we get there. Carlos, are you ready?” Cecil asked.

Carlos dried the last dish and put it away. “I am now.”

“Then let’s get going!” Cecil led the way out of the kitchen and the front door. The Baudelaires followed Cecil outside, waiting for answers, some unfathomable, some unknowable, and some closer than they realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone be safe out there today. This Valentine's Day, as all Valentine's Days, will be over soon. Hunker down, shield your head and heart, and wait for the day to end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baudelaires get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...am so sorry for how late this is. Recent developments in WTNV and in my own life made this chapter difficult to write in more ways than one. But without further ado...

The five of them headed out the door, and Cecil led the way out of the apartment building and to the edge of the road. Carlos drew a symbol on the pavement with what looked like a glue stick, and a moment later, a vehicle that looked like a bicycle attached to some kind of cart pulled up in front of the building. 

As Cecil and Carlos spoke to the person on the bicycle part of the vehicle, Violet muttered, “What in the world is that thing?” to Klaus, who used to read a great deal and probably had some idea. 

“Calca!” Sunny shrieked in agreement.

“It looks to me like some kind of rickshaw. Those are popular in south Asian cities, I think, but I can't see why there would be a rickshaw service in an American desert town,” Klaus replied.

At that moment, Cecil turned to the three siblings and gestured for them to hop into the cart. “My car is in the shop right now, so we're going to catch a ride from Ken here.”

The cart had four seats, so Klaus sat Sunny on his lap when he climbed in after Violet. Carlos boarded as well, and after exchanging a few words with the driver, Cecil climbed in too. The driver - Ken - pulled a cord after Cecil sat down, and there came a sound from underneath the cart that was not unlike a lawnmower starting up. Intrigued, Violet leaned over the side of the cart to see if she could spot a motor of any kind, but she could only see a small stream of smoke that wisped out from under the seats. 

The Baudelaires and their companions rode down the street, the cart bumping every now and again and jostling them against each other. The sun was beginning to sink behind the low buildings of the town, but it was still early enough in the evening that the siblings had to squint as the rickshaw trundled through Night Vale. At first, the driver seemed to be retracing the path Cecil had taken them on earlier that day, but he turned at the City Hall, where a group of people were stretching out an enormous sheet of dark fabric. Violet watched the people shake out the sheet and carry it toward the large stone building. What were they doing? Before she could ask, Cecil said,

“The radio station where I work is coming up, and look, there’s the Night Vale SPCA and Animal Shelter!” He pointed at a normal-looking brick building surrounded by a chain-link fence that must have been - the siblings craned their necks to see the top - at least three stories high. “That’s where I got Ballou a few years ago - she’s the little brown dog you three met earlier. The other two, Lemonjello and Daisy, came from puppy infestations over in Old Town. And,” he gestured toward a low black building with an antenna towering over it, “there’s Night Vale Community Radio.”

Shortly after this, the rickshaw lumbered past a lot full of cars, all in various stages of rust and disarray. Violet could swear she saw shadows moving over and between the cars, but as soon as she looked closely, they moved out of sight. She was musing over whether overhead clouds or some sort of reflections were causing the shadows when the rickshaw slowed to a stop in front of a small green house, bordered on one side by a chain-link fence that separated the yard from the car lot. 

“Here we are! I think you’ll like Josie,” Cecil continued, as Carlos got out of the cart and stretched a hand up to help Cecil down. “Thank you, dear Carlos.” The Baudelaires disembarked as well, and followed their guardian as he walked to the front of the rickshaw, leaning on his cane once again. Cecil took out a wallet and counted out a few bills, which he handed to the driver - Ken, Violet remembered.

“Thanks, Cecil. Business has been pretty slow, and I’m trying to save up to build an addition onto the house - the wife just had a baby. Want to see?” Without waiting for a response, Ken pulled a photo of a small baby out of his shirt pocket and showed it to Cecil, Carlos, and the Baudelaires. 

“Aww, how cute!” Cecil cooed. “How is Sandy doing?”

“Fine, fine. Tired, but, you know. We’re doing good.”

“That’s great to hear. Oh, and good luck getting City Council to let you build on that addition!” Cecil said, and the two men shared a hearty laugh. They bade each other goodbye, and Carlos and the Baudelaires gave Ken a wave as he pulled the cord once again and puttered away. 

Cecil turned to the Baudelaires. “This is Old Woman Josie’s house! I spent, like, every day here after school when I was a kid,” he reminisced, making his way up the path to the house, followed by the Baudelaires and Carlos. An older woman stood in the doorway holding the screen door open, and Cecil leaned in to give her a hug as soon as he reached the top of the porch stairs. “Good afternoon, Josie!”

“Good afternoon, Cecil! Good to see you, and you too, Carlos.” The woman - Josie - turned to the three siblings. “And these must be the Baudelaires?”

They nodded. “I’m Violet,” said Violet, “and these are my siblings Klaus and Sunny,” she said, pointing to her siblings Klaus and Sunny. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you three. Cecil told me you’d be staying with him. I hope you’ll feel at home with him - I know he’ll make a fine guardian.” She gave Cecil a slight smile, and stepped away from the door. “You can come on inside - don’t wanna let the bugs in.”

The Baudelaires followed Cecil and Carlos through the door and into a small sitting room, and that’s when they saw them. Two impossible beings, both impossibly bright, both impossibly tall, with huge, dark wings. They were beautiful in an unearthly, haunting way, and the children couldn’t decide whether to stare or to cover their eyes in mortal terror.

“Oh, yes - these are the angels,” Josie said, and Cecil inhaled sharply as a siren began to wail somewhere in the distance. “You can just call them by their names, though - this is Erika, and that’s Erika.” Josie gestured to one being and then the other. “They help me out around the house and keep me company, and whatnot.”

Violet’s eyes were glued to the floor in front of the angel - in front of Erika, but she managed to drag her gaze to where the being’s knees would be, if it had discernible legs. Trying to be respectful as she had been taught, Violet murmured, “H-hello,” and was rewarded with a warm, glowing feeling that radiated from her heart throughout her body.

Josie nodded approvingly, and Violet turned her gaze to the older woman instead of Erika. “You’ll probably meet more of the Erikas tonight. They usually like to join me for dinner.” The mention of dinner made the Baudelaires aware of a delicious smell - baking chicken and sizzling vegetables. Even though they had eaten lunch less than two hours before, the siblings’ mouths began to water. A few weeks’ worth of gum and casseroles would have that effect on anyone.

“You kids and Carlos can sit down in here or on the porch while Cecil and I finish up dinner,” Josie said, gesturing first to the sitting room they were in, and then at the screen door, which opened out onto the porch. “We should be ready soon.”

After Cecil and Josie relocated to the kitchen, Carlos turned to the Baudelaire siblings. 

“There are some things you need to know about Night Vale if you’re going to live here. A lot of it - all of it, really - might sound crazy, but just...hear me out.” He sat down on one of the cushioned benches sitting around the room, and the three Baudelaires did the same. 

“You already know about the Secret Police, and about how it’s sometimes impossible to get here - some people manage it, somehow, but most others can’t. But there’s more. Clocks don’t work here. There’s a house that doesn’t exist - like, it should be there, it’s right there when you look at it, but it doesn’t exist. All the wheat products turned into snakes once - that’s why there’s no normal wheat bread here. Librarians are… not people, I think, and they’ll try to kill anyone who comes into the library. Or, well, Tamika Flynn has proven herself capable of taking them down, at least.” Carlos paused, and Klaus took advantage of the space in the conversation.

“What do you mean, clocks don’t work and the librarians aren’t people?” asked the middle Baudelaire.

“I mean exactly that. The clocks here don’t have gears or mechanical parts inside - just big globs of hair and teeth. And anyway, the time our computers and devices display is always different from the time it is outside Night Vale, in this time zone. The librarians… I’ve never gotten very close to one, but a member of my team went to the library to try to get some information about the geography of the town, and she came back with quite a few scrapes, and a couple of grainy photographs that instill mortal terror in anyone who looks at them.” 

Carlos shuddered, and then sighed. “I know this all seems strange and unbelievable. Believe me, I felt the same way when I first arrived here. But...you just met the Erikas. That’s enough to know that this town is unlike any other place in the world.” He grinned. “Like I said, there’s so much that we can’t explain, but that’s what makes living here so exciting! Also dangerous. But exciting!”

The Baudelaire siblings had had to take a lot into stride over the last few months, but this was a little overwhelming. Their feelings must have shown on their faces, because Carlos gave them a reassuring smile and said,

“I know all of this is hard to take in,” Carlos said. “But there's something I'd like to show you outside, if that's alright.”

He stood from the cushioned bench he’d been sitting on, and the Baudelaires followed suit. Carlos held open Old Woman Josie’s screen door and led the siblings out onto the porch. There, Carlos pointed towards the sun, sitting low on the western horizon in all its orange glory. 

“Just watch.”

The Baudelaires watched. 

Several minutes went by, long enough for Klaus to have to shift Sunny around in his arms a few times, but nothing happened. The siblings looked quizzically between Carlos and the sun, wondering what they were supposed to be seeing. 

Carlos noticed and explained, “It’s not setting. It's just sitting there. It does it for hours some nights.”

Of course, the three thought to themselves, rather embarrassed that they hadn’t noticed.

“It’s okay that you didn’t notice,” Carlos said, seeming to have read their minds. “Some of us Outsiders are better than others at taking the weird stuff here in stride. It’ll be really scientifically interesting to see how you three do!” Carlos was silent for a moment, his exclamation falling through the air like moths after they hit Old Woman Josie’s bug zapper porch light.

“It’s going to be strange at first. This is the most scientifically fascinating place I’ve ever been, and I studied the hum in Taos. But I think once you settle in, you’ll see that this town really is a pretty great place. Sure, it can be weird.” He pointed toward the sunset, still the same rich shade of burnt orange, surrounded by deep purple. “But it can be beautiful, too.”

***

They went back inside after a few more minutes of watching the sun hang in the sky. Josie and Cecil had dinner ready in the kitchen, and the six of them sat down around a big wooden table that took up most of the dining room. Several Erikas came in to get plates of chicken and vegetables, but all six of the chairs were taken up by the Baudelaires, Cecil, Carlos, and Josie, so each Erika took their plate elsewhere. 

The adults carried much of the conversation, talking about a public subway system, and about an upcoming election - normal adult things - which allowed Violet, Klaus, and Sunny to think over and process everything Carlos had told them. Every once in a while, Violet would consider the possibility that she had imagined the conversation with the scientist, and Klaus would puzzle over whether Carlos had been joking with him and his siblings, and Sunny would wonder if she was still asleep in Mr. Poe’s car and try to wake herself up. But then one of the Erikas would enter the kitchen for seconds or thirds, or they would catch a glimpse of the stagnant sun through a window, and the siblings would be reminded all over again that the strange things in Night Vale were not jokes or figments of their imaginations. 

Josie did ask about the siblings’ hobbies near the end of dinner. Violet told her about her interest in inventing all sorts of things, and Klaus told her about loving to read (Josie and Cecil exchanged a Look at that point in the conversation), and Sunny chomped down on a chicken bone to demonstrate her affinity for biting things. Klaus quickly took the chicken bone out of Sunny’s mouth - he knew from reading various books and pamphlets that cooked chicken bones could splinter and hurt the throats of anything chomping on them - and Josie asked one of the Erikas wash up some celery sticks for Sunny instead as she herself gathered up the dinner plates and put them in the sink. 

“Erika, why don’t you put those celery sticks on a plate and take them into the living room? I’ve got a new 78 in there I think everyone might enjoy,” Josie said, louder than usual.

Cecil gave the Baudelaires a reassuring nod and gestured toward the doorway Josie was shuffling through. The siblings stood up from the table and followed Josie into a cozy room with a sofa and a few chairs, a small TV, and a large gramophone that looked like it came straight out of an old movie. There were a few windows, but several Erikas entered the room and stopped in front of them, preventing Klaus from seeing outside. 

“What is she doing?” Klaus asked Cecil. Josie had put on the record, and was turning it up very loud. So loud, in fact, that Klaus could scarcely hear Cecil’s answer over his ears ringing. “She’s hiding this from the police.” 

The old woman gestured towards a panel in the wall, which slid sideways to reveal a very small, dim area, absolutely packed with books. “Reading is a formidable weapon, against tyranny, boredom, or the lonely life of a dowager,” Josie murmured. The ringing in Klaus’ ears subsided as he stepped inside, eyes darting around the tiny room as Josie pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling to turn on a single lightbulb. 

Klaus gasped. No matter how many libraries he came across, he was always filled with delight when he entered a room with so many books, just waiting to be read. That is, if it was all right with the owner… 

Holding his breath, Klaus looked over at Old Woman Josie. She smiled at him, and said, “You can have at it. All I ask is that you don’t spread it around that I’ve got this little setup back here. Alright?” 

Klaus nodded. He wanted to know more about the surveillance and book-banning going on in the town, but...it could wait. Josie gave him the go-ahead, and he immediately began to pore through the shelves. There was a wide variety of material there - stacks and stacks of scripts from plays and operas, as well as some old textbooks and miscellaneous novels, and a thick, black, leather-bound notebook that sat on a shelf by itself, surrounded by some knickknacks and a few framed photographs. Klaus flipped through the plays - a variety of languages was represented in the stack, and many of the scripts had parts underlined or highlighted. Klaus pulled one off the top of the stack, and Josie said,

“I was in that play back in 1961, right after it premiered. It’s a good one,” she said. “I’ve always felt that plays are better performed than read, but I think you’ll enjoy it either way. You can sit on the couch out there to read it, just make sure you stay away from the windows.”

“Thank you,” Klaus said, grateful to finally have a chance to sit down and read something without it being a life-or-death situation for the first time in several weeks. He went to sit on the sofa, and Josie turned out the light and carefully slid the panel shut behind him. To everyone’s relief, she finally turned down the gramophone as well. (After living in a lumbermill for several weeks, the Baudelaires were used to loud noises, but just because one is used to something doesn’t mean they find it particularly pleasant.)

The Baudelaires stayed in the living room while Cecil, Carlos, and Josie chatted and cleaned up the kitchen, and shortly after that, Carlos took his leave, mentioning that he had an experiment he needed to keep an eye on overnight. “If someone doesn’t go to check on it soon, it could become a very fiery disaster in a matter of minutes,” he explained. Carlos thanked Josie for the meal and bade the Baudelaires and Cecil goodbye, saying he’d see them the next day. 

Cecil chatted with Josie for a few minutes longer, but then he too made his way for the door, saying he had to get to the station to do his show.

“Radio waits for no one. Or at least - well, let’s not get into that. Josie and the Erikas will make sure you get home safe and sound tonight. I’d normally pick you up in my car and take you home after the show ended, but since my car is in the shop, I’ll have to get a ride home from my intern tonight. And he rides a moped, so I don’t think he could take us all home at once.” Cecil bade the Baudelaires and Josie farewell, and headed outside. A few moments later, they heard the lawnmower sound again, and through the window, they could see the rickshaw carrying their guardian puttering away.

***

Once Cecil left, the sun finally sank below the horizon, leaving Josie’s living room lit only by the two ornate lamps that straddled the sofa.

Klaus was flipping through old plays with Josie on the sofa and Sunny, who had gotten tired of the celery sticks, was happily alternating between chewing on a plastic spoon and banging it on the living room rug. Violet sat on the floor, playing with her baby sister as she worked through the events of the day. Had it really only been that afternoon when she and her siblings woke up in the Night Vale Welcome Center and met Cecil? It seemed so much longer… Violet half-listened to Sunny’s chattering as she searched the room for a clock, but found nothing. 

“Sunny, do you see a clock in here?” Violet asked. 

Sunny paused her spoon-banging to look around the room. “Ilad.”

“Me neither,” Violet said. She remembered what Carlos had said about clocks not working and the time never being right in Night Vale. The eldest Baudelaire began to ponder why this could be the case, but the late hour and the large meal she’d just eaten combined to make the cogs in her inventing brain run more slowly than usual, even when she tied her hair up with her trusty ribbon. Violet puzzled over the strange things Carlos had told her and her siblings for a while, but found herself nodding off as Sunny had begun to do. Violet pulled her sleepy baby sister into her lap and watched drowsily as Josie got up from the sofa and turned on a small radio by the television. Static crackled, then Cecil’s voice rang out from the speaker:

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Try again and again. Let your thirst for success consume you. Try. Try. Try. Welcome to Night Vale.”

After a little intro music, the broadcast continued. Violet tried fight off her exhaustion and pay attention, but she found it near-impossible to focus on Cecil’s words, only registering the soothing tones of his voice. Still sitting on the floor, Violet leaned back against the sofa, the long, busy day and late hour catching up to her. She needed to keep an eye on Klaus and Sunny…but surely it couldn’t hurt to close her eyes for just a moment...

Violet let her eyelids close, and promptly fell sound asleep.

***

Violet woke up later - she wasn’t sure how much later - and realized she was very much not on the sofa where she’d fallen asleep earlier. She sat up and looked around the room. Once her eyes adjusted to the faint glow of moonlight and streetlights from outside the window, Violet realized she was in her and her siblings’ new bedroom at Cecil’s house. She could see the crib where her baby sister was asleep and the dresser where she’d put away their belongings earlier, and above her was the bunk where Klaus was sleeping, making that little clicking sound on every exhale like he’d done since he was little. 

The eldest Baudelaire lay back down, and looked up at the bunk above her. Being on the bottom bunk brought Violet back to those nights at the lumbermill, staring up at the top bunk where her brother lay, unsure if he would ever be himself again, if the light behind his eyes and his smile would ever return. Now, looking up at Klaus’s bunk and listening to his inhale-click-exhale, it was nice to think that when Klaus woke up the next morning, he would be safe and sound, and back to his old self.

(Of course, as usual for the Baudelaires, misfortune wasn’t finished with them just yet.)

A rustling came from the upper bunk. Her moving around must have roused Klaus - Violet often forgot how much of a light sleeper her brother was, especially when he was in a new environment. She listened to see if he’d woken up -

“Violet?” Came Klaus’s voice from the upper bunk. He sounded panicked, and Violet quickly escaped her blankets to stand on her bunk, bringing her near-eye level with her brother.

“What is it, Klaus?” 

“How did I get here? What-where are we?” Klaus stumbled over his words, still frantic, and his left hand was scrabbling around on the blankets- looking for his glasses, Violet realized, and she squinted into the darkness, searching, searching, until she saw where they’d fallen off his bunk onto her own, and she looked them over, fearing they’d been twisted or cracked or hopelessly broken, but they were fine, and she pressed them into his hand as she said, 

“We’re in our bedroom in Cecil’s apartment, remember? We’re in Night Vale.”

Klaus pushed the glasses onto his nose, hands shaking. “How did we get here - to this bedroom? We were- we were at Josie’s house, right?” 

“That’s right,” Violet said. “I’m not sure how we got back here - I remember Cecil saying that Josie would get us home, but I don’t remember arriving here. Josie and her...her Erikas must have gotten us home somehow.”

“Was I...I wasn’t hypnotized again?” Klaus asked, his voice small and shaky.

Violet remembered how just a few moments ago, lying on the lower bunk had reminded her of being back at the lumbermill. Violet wasn’t sure how conscious Klaus had been while he was hypnotized, but waking up in the top bunk, someplace completely different than where he’d been before, must have caused her brother to flash back to those terrifying days and nights where he wasn’t in control of his own body. 

“No, Klaus,” she answered. Violet didn’t know much about flashbacks or recovering from hypnotism - Klaus was the one who read thick psychology textbooks for fun, not her - but through experience, she did know how to comfort her brother. She reached a hand up toward Klaus, and waited for him to take it. She gave his fingers a little squeeze as he did, and asked, “Do you want to come down here?”

Klaus nodded, and took a deep breath before climbing down from his bunk. He sat on the lower bunk, and Violet joined him, pulling the blanket around their shoulders as best she could. She rubbed his arm as tiny shudders racked his body and tears slipped down his nose behind his glasses. Violet knew that usually, when Klaus was so angry or sad that he was moved to tears, he was always very vocal about exactly what was bothering him. But this time, he cried quietly, and Violet wanted to cry as well. Her purpose now was to keep her siblings safe, but how could she do that when the things they needed protecting from lay not only around them, but in their minds as well?

Violet could only hope that this new place would be safe from the outside threats that plagued them - misfortune, death, and the horrible, horrible man who was the cause of it all. Maybe then, their inside wounds would start to heal.

The sky was still dark as Klaus nodded off, and even as Violet did too, some time later. The moonset left the room peacefully dark, as though the heavens themselves wanted the Baudelaire orphans to have a good night’s sleep for once in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These poor kids.
> 
> Readers of the books might catch some references and an extra message, if they are very fervently deciphering the text. The victory bell will ring for anyone who points it out in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsewhere...

Elsewhere, in a city on the coast, a man paced back and forth on creaky floorboards. Sawdust-covered pantyhose and a pair of high heels lay discarded in a pile on the floor, and rather than cleaning up his mess like any good person would, the man just stepped over the pile as he paced past it. He was sweaty and thin, and his single eyebrow furrowed as he paced across the wooden floor.

Count Olaf squinted out of the tower window, peering past the rusty birdcage hanging there to the street nearby. No police cars had arrived in front of his house yet, but Olaf would still have to leave soon. He could hear his assistants bumbling around downstairs, and hoped they were packing all the disguises and tools that he’d told them to. He hadn’t made a list, as he often did, but hopefully the fools would manage without one. 

Olaf glared at one of the framed eyes hanging on the tower wall. It really was unfortunate, what had happened to Georgina Orwell the day before. She had been… a worthy partner in crime. Much more so than the crowd downstairs - 

“Boss! Your scrambled-egg sandwich is ready!”

Count Olaf ripped his gaze away from the framed eye and made for the door. “I thought I said FRIED!” he shouted, stomping his way down the stairs. 

“Oh. Sorry,” the henchperson apologized. “You know, eggs are healthiest when they’re boiled.”

Olaf gave them a withering glance and ripped the sandwich out of their hand, then took a bite. “Needs more mayo,” he said, not bothering to swallow the bite first. 

“I can put more on if you -”

“No, I’ll take it,” Olaf interrupted. “I have to leave right now - I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

“Ahead of you?” asked the hook-handed man. “What about us?”

“You all go to the safe house and wait for me. I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” Olaf pulled on one of his best leather coats, then walked out the front door and to his car. 

“But how should we get there, if you’re taking the car?” asked one of the makeup-faced women. 

Olaf rolled his eyes. “Take a train, take a ferry, walk for all I care. Just be there by tomorrow.” He got into the car and shut the door. “Don’t wait up,” he said through the open window, then sped away.

Several hours, an egg sandwich, and four flattened squirrels later, Count Olaf pulled up onto the grounds of a carnival just as the famous hinterland sunset gave way to darkness. Olaf got out of his car and dusted the sandwich crumbs off his shirt, then took a moment to relieve himself - a phrase which here means, “do something very nasty and disrespectful to a nearby pay phone.” And at last, he made his way over to a certain fortune-telling tent, to see a certain fortune-teller. 

“Madame Lulu!” Olaf boomed as he entered the tent. “It’s me, Count Olaf!”

The ‘Madame Lulu’ he was addressing was a dark-haired woman wearing a turban, with a large plastic jewel fastening it atop her hair. She straightened the turban as she stood to greet the man who had just barged in upon her. 

“Oh, my Olaf, Madame Lulu is so happy to be seeing you! Sit down, sit down! What brings you to my humble carnival today, please?”

“It’s those damned orphans again,” Olaf said, sitting on the stool she’d indicated. “They got away from me in Paltryville, and I need to know where they went next.”

Madame Lulu sighed. “Ah, yes, those pesky orphans. Madame Lulu and her crystal ball will help you, please, but you must wait until sunrise. For that is when -”

“‘For that is when the magic happens,’ blah, blah,” Olaf mimicked her in a high-pitched-voice - something that wicked people often do. “Do you think that you could be giving me some wine while we wait for sunrise, please, Madame Lulu?” Olaf asked, mocking her accent - another thing that wicked people often do (although the particular accent he was mocking was being faked by the woman in the tent with him). 

“Of course, my Olaf.” Madame Lulu poured two glasses of wine, and sat them on the table. She sat down across the table from Olaf and asked, “Now, my Count, won’t you tell me a story of one of your wonderful plays, please?”

Olaf stretched out and slouched in his chair. “Well, a few years back I put on a play about a very handsome man - played by me, of course…”

Madame Lulu watched as Olaf drained glass after glass of wine, and listened as his words became more and more slurred. “And she...she tried to act like she was so high and mighty, and noble, but I. I knew she was just like me. And she! She thought she was so much better, but I knew…”

Eventually, he dropped off to sleep, his slack-jawed mouth emitting the snores Madame Lulu had become accustomed to whenever Olaf came seeking information about the Baudelaires. Those snores told Lulu that Olaf was safely unconscious, and would be that way until she roused him right before sunrise. 

With this assurance, Madame Lulu removed her turban, and with it, she removed her disguise. Olivia Caliban shook out her hair, and removed a small piece of paper from her turban, where she’d had to hide it when Olaf suddenly entered her tent. Olivia carefully moved her still-full glass of wine and Olaf’s empty one from the table to an empty stool, and then removed the tablecloth and false top of the table to reveal her hidden archival library. 

For a woman who had lived in the isolated hinterlands for several years, Olivia had built an impressive archive of information, most of which she received from the volunteers of a certain secret organization as they came to ask her questions. As a member came seeking information from Olivia, they always brought more information for her to file away, whether they knew it or not. Just the day before, for instance, a member had come seeking information about the livelihood and whereabouts of his brother. Olivia had the information he wanted, and in return, she learned that the man had recently been advising a wealthy friend about which penthouse apartment he should rent in the city. The man had not told her this personally, but she had heard him talking to this friend on the pay phone outside, and so she wrote it down and filed it away, as she did with all of the information she came across. She never knew when something like that would be useful to someone. Olivia loved to help the people who came to her for information - nothing felt better to a woman so geographically and socially isolated than feeling useful and appreciated. 

Olivia looked back down at the slip of paper she was holding. A few volunteers who often came by to ask questions of Olivia and her crystal ball had figured out Olivia’s true method of answering their questions, and had taken to sending her messages and information through various covert means. (She had found this particular scrap fastened to the wheel of one of the circus’s few caravans by a piece of chewing gum.) Olivia knew that there was a schism, knew that the only reason that members of both factions of the organization came to her for answers was because they thought she was helping their side alone, and didn’t suspect that she was essentially a double agent. Olivia didn’t like to dwell on that. There was no real right side of the schism, and she wasn’t helping one side over the other, anyway. All she did was tell people what they wanted to know. 

Olivia turned her attention back to the scrap of paper. It contained a short feature about a tall, thin, white man with one eyebrow who had strangled a bishop, then escaped from jail, never to be seen again. Whoever had been in possession of the scrap and left it for Olivia had circled the description of the attacker in purple pen, and written, “O?” in the margin. Olivia frowned, and opened the file which held information about the very man who was sleeping across the room from her. This file was full - very full. A lot of people were after Olaf, and Olaf was after a lot of people. Three people in particular, however, were his current targets. In fact, the file which Olivia had compiled on the three Baudelaire orphans was the largest in her archival library. Several volunteers had come to her, seeking information about the Baudelaires, and she always had something for them. Now, Olaf was here again, wanting to know where the Baudelaires had gone after leaving Paltryville and the Lucky Smells Lumbermill. 

Well. It was safe to say that the banker - Poe - had taken them away from the lumbermill and back to the city as he usually did, Olivia thought as she hefted the file out of its hiding place and placed it on the floor. The Baudelaires usually spent a night at the Poe home before leaving for their next home on the following morning, Olivia mused. And everywhere that the Baudelaire orphans had been sent had brought them into close proximity with the organization Olivia herself was wrapped up in. 

Yes, the Baudelaires were bound to V.F.D. just as Olivia was. Just as Olaf was, just as everyone who visited her here in this tent was. 

Olivia sat on the floor of her tent and searched through the Baudelaire file, looking for anything useful that might catch her eye. The most recent information she had on them were a few pages from a lumberyard foreman’s ledger book, which had the names of the three Baudelaires scrawled on them. As for Poe, he had recently bought one train ticket to Paltryville, and four to return to the city. Olivia looked closer at the copy of the tickets. The copy had arrived via fax that morning, less than twenty-four hours before, but Olivia could see that the train rides had actually taken place the day before that. That meant the Baudelaires had probably been back to the city and spent the night with Poe the night before, and so were probably at their new home already. So why hadn’t Olivia received any information about where they’d gone?

The archivist continued to leaf through her collection, but it became clear that any evidence of the Baudelaires’ whereabouts stopped at the city with Mr. Poe. Olivia had been in pinches like this before, however, and she knew that she had to think about her problem in a different way. It was clear that each of the Baudelaires’ previous homes had been steeped in V.F.D. activity. Montgomery Montgomery and Josephine Anwhistle were both active in the organization, or at least had been in their younger, living years, and even the owner of the Lumbermill the orphans had been sent to was affiliated with the organization. Maybe there was something there, Olivia thought. She got up and checked on Olaf - still sound asleep and snoring - and then pulled a few more files out of her hidden library. There were countless members and affiliates of V.F.D. that the Baudelaires could end up living with, and countless safe places where they could be sent. 

Eventually, Olivia came up with a list of possible members and places that the Baudelaire orphans could have been sent to. The birds were beginning to chirp outside, signaling that the sun would rise soon. Olivia looked back at her list. It had ended up… shorter than she expected. Her research had shown her that recently, many of V.F.D.’s safe places had been compromised, and that many of its members had been put out of commission. She decided not to wonder how much of this was caused by her role as information-provider, and instead thought over her options. She couldn’t show Olaf the list - that would ruin the illusion of magic she hid behind, and then Olaf would demand to know where she got the information, if not through mystical means. Olivia shuddered to think what Olaf would do if he discovered the sizable file on himself and his crimes that Olivia was keeping not three feet away from his chair. She would just have to choose one of the names or places on the list and send him there, and hope that it bought her a little time to figure out where the Baudelaires really were. 

Olivia carefully peeked outside the tent. The sky was becoming a little brighter - it was almost time to rouse Olaf. She wrapped her head in the turban once more and fastened it with the plastic jewel, becoming Madame Lulu, fortune-teller in a matter of moments. 

“My Olaf,” she said, slipping back into the fake accent, “won’t you wake up? The sun will be rising soon, please, and that is the only time when the magic works, please!” 

Olaf stretched and yawned, then opened his bloodshot eyes. “What…” Olaf scratched his unshaven face. “Madame Lulu, you look terrible!” he slurred. “Did you not sleep last night?” 

“Ah, no - the, ah, the freaks in the freak caravan were partying last night, and they woke me many times, please. Madame Lulu is apologizing for her appearance,” Madame Lulu said. 

“Yeah, well.” Olaf sat up straight and shook his head. “Let’s get the magic started and find out where those orphans are!”

Madame Lulu used her foot to flick a switch near the floor, which started up some special effects that heightened the magical illusion. “Ah, yes, it is time for the magic to begin, please. Olaf, place your hands on the crystal ball, close your eyes, and ask your question.”

Olaf obliged, and asked, “Where are the Baudelaire orphans?”

“Keep your eyes closed, please, my Olaf, and remove your hands from the crystal ball. I will be consulting the magical forces which are now congregating in this tent.”

Madame Lulu sat quietly for a few moments, and consulted her list. “The Baudelaire orphans can be located at… the castle of the Duchess of Winnipeg.”

“Where the hell is that?” asked Olaf, his one eyebrow furrowed. 

“I am sorry, my Olaf, but the crystal ball can only answer one question per day,” Madame Lulu answered. 

Olaf scowled, and Madame Lulu continued, “I am now dispersing of the magical energies in the room, please. Keep your eyes closed as I give the energies a moment to leave us.” She waited another moment, then flicked the switch again with her foot. The effects stopped, and she was left in the dark tent with Olaf. “You may now open your eyes.”

Olaf did, and then said, “Okay. You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to Winnipeg, would you?”

“No, my Olaf. I am sorry.”

Olaf grunted. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you around - I’ve got places to be, and a couple of orphans to track down. Arrivedershey!” he called, leaping up from his stool and making for the tent’s exit. 

“Wait! We have not discussed payment, please?” Madame Lulu called after him. 

Olaf poked his head back inside the tent. “When I get that fortune, you’ll have all the payment you want. Right now, I’m kind of… not going to pay you anything. Cool? Cool,” he said, leaving the tent and rushing to his car. 

Madame Lulu sighed, and got up, ready to rouse the freaks in their caravan and start another day at her carnival. 

***

Olivia Caliban had a vast collection of information, organized as best as it could be when it was hidden inside a relatively small table. And in her moment of stress in the dimly lit tent, it is understandable that she overlooked a very slim folder buried under many, many others. That folder was labeled simply Night Vale, and it held very little. All of the documents were at least a few years old, and Olivia had not touched the folder in quite a while. There were a few copies of letters concerning the small town, and a formal document made by a member of V.F.D., requesting that someone investigate the town as a safe place for information to be held and members to hide. The last document, a formal assignment from a V.F.D.-affiliated university, said very little, and was quite faded. It only stated its purpose - assigning someone to visit and research the town of Night Vale, and assess its suitability as a V.F.D. safe place - and a note about the member assigned to do the job. “C. is a skilled researcher, and has undergone the best training we can offer. There is no doubt that he and the appointed team will craft a thorough and valid analysis of this Valuably Functional Destination.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the late update. Life...happens, is all I can say. Have no fear, I am really invested in this story, and I will stick with it until the end! 
> 
> V.F.D. is going to play into this story. I have plans, which I hope I will carry out effectively, while doing both stories justice and also not confusing any readers. This chapter has probably been the one that will be the most confusing, simply because I’m planting seeds for later while also trying to explain how some events have come to pass. Also, I love Olivia Caliban and I wanted to give her a spotlight. Please let me know if any part of the story has been or becomes confusing, particularly if you aren’t too familiar with either ASOUE or WTNV. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
